Everyday Memories of Those Who’ve Gone Before

You never know what will make you remember the people you miss.

Rainbows make me think of our late neighbors, John and Loretta. We shared such a beautiful rainbow with them one summer afternoon.

Reaching up to close a window takes my mind to our friend Father Tom. He once told me how he felt called to become a priest when he saw a Franciscan closing the chapel windows with devoted reverence.

Hearing a Boston accent reminds me of my Grandma. I can still hear her voice and see her smile, even though she passed away more than 30 years ago.

The changing trees of autumn make me think of Georgie, our little nephew and cousin who was stillborn at 34 weeks in utero. He passed on Halloween, and this will always be his season.

I’m thankful for the little moments that bring back the memories.

Every year, I miss more people who have passed away. We say goodbye to friends and family, and we add them to our prayers. I hope, pray, and believe that we will see them again. But lately I’ve been noticing—and cherishing—the small experiences that call the people I love to mind.

Sometimes I can’t put my finger on what it is that makes me remember someone. There are days when I’m driving and think of my brother-in-law Eric out of nowhere. Why does that particular curve in the road remind me of him? I’ll never know.

Other times I know exactly why I think of a particular person. I reach for a carton of eggs on a chilly Saturday morning, and my mind goes to my mother-in-law. Peggy loved making breakfast, and she could scramble the fluffiest eggs. So many times I asked her for advice and sat at her kitchen table, watching her cook, hoping her skills would rub off on me. They never did. But when I’m scrambling eggs in my kitchen, she’s on my mind.

Grief is just an extension of love, people say. It’s a way of continuing to live and love and continue to cherish someone. So, I’m not surprised that these souls in our lives stay present to me through memories. Still, being able to hold onto them in that way is an unexpected gift.

What I love is when the most ordinary moments trigger extraordinary feelings of connection with people who have passed away. How beautiful when God helps us recall that we are still connected, that we are all part of one Body of Christ, and that love connects us outside of time.

During this month when we pray for and remember souls, we will be holding many loved ones in prayer, including my father-in-law, Bill, who passed away in March, and loved ones of friends and family that we hold close in prayer. It is such a gift that we can pray for the living and the deceased—and to ask them to pray for us. I love knowing that we are all part of one human family.

“For even dead, we are not at all separated from one another, because we all run the same course,” St. Symeon of Thessalonica said. “And we will find one another again in the same place.”

Yes, we will find one another again when—we hope and pray—Jesus welcomes us home to heaven one day in the future. Until then, we will treasure those everyday moments, those gentle encounters, when we remember those we love and miss. Our loved ones are never far away.

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